


Candlelight

by nellii



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion are Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parents, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Good Parent Jaskier | Dandelion, Lesbian Ciri, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, fair warning we don't like mistle in this household, thats all - Freeform, they cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellii/pseuds/nellii
Summary: Jaskier promised to take Ciri with him to the next royal ball, but Geralt is unsure.
Relationships: (she likes a girl), Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Other(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 113





	Candlelight

“You promised you’d take me next time.” Ciri crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her fathers. 

“I did promise her,” Jaskier tried but was cut off with a disapproving grunt from Geralt. He was incredibly overprotective, even with Ciri being nearly 22 years old. A young adult yet still under her father’s guiding wing. He was still recovering from the aftermath of the White Frost incident. He was still afraid of waking up one day and finding her gone. 

“I don’t care about promises. You’re not going.” Jaskier and Ciri both knew once Geralt made a decision, he was immovable, as solid and stubborn as an ox. The bard shared a dismayed look with his daughter. She looked to him sulkily, but then a spark lit her eyes. She uncrossed her arms and tilted her head thoughtfully. 

“What if  _ I _ didn’t go?”

“Oh no…” Geralt collapsed his head in his hands. Jaskier grinned.

“I like what you’re thinking, Ciri.” He stood up from the table and she took his hand. “Let’s pick you out a doublet that compliments your eyes!” 

-

By the time Jaskier returned, Geralt had given up thinking of ways to stop Ciri from attending the dance. 

“I couldn’t be prouder of her.” He announced. “She has a natural eye for style, went straight for my golden doublet. I told her you would help her with her hair. I have no experience with long hair. I even have ribbons to braid in-”

“Jask,” he interrupted. His voice was serious, golden gaze cast down, so Jaskier quieted. “Keep her safe, please. Don’t let her out of your sight.” 

Jaskier felt his heart break hearing those words. Geralt was not one to easily unveil his emotions. When he did, he became vulnerable. Exposed. And sometimes he seemed hurt. Like a wounded dog, whimpering and licking his wounds- but Geralt’s wounds were buried inside of him. 

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in both of his and tugged him forward to press their foreheads together. “You needn’t worry. Not at all. I’ll be right by her side.” But this wasn’t all Geralt needed to hear. He bristled with anxiety still. They shared a single deep breath, Geralt chasing the rhythm of Jaskier’s breathing. “And we will come home.” 

Excited footsteps raced down the stairs, and Geralt pulled away from Jaskier to look up with a small smile- a big smile by Geralt’s standards, though. 

Ciri stood with her shoulders back and head tilted up. She exuded confidence. She wore Jaskier’s golden doublet, with the inward-facing stripes lined with lace. Unbuttoned at the collar, with matching trousers and brown riding boots. Geralt instantly knew Ciri was the one to pick out the boots. They were practical, good for running, but complemented the outfit. Ciri hadn't wanted to look completely like a boy- she asked Jaskier that they choose something more neutral, no gowns or dresses or frills. 

“Well?” She gave a curt spin. “What do you think?”

“You look good.” Geralt rumbled. His smile grew slightly, full of pride, full of affection. “You’re going to have to fight off plenty of girls looking for your hand in a dance.”

“What if I want to dance?” Ciri’s smile was brighter than the sun. 

“Then you better change your boots. Riding boots are for riding, not  _ dancing _ .” Jaskier berated playfully. “They look lovely, my dear, but you don’t want to be stepping on your girlfriend’s toes.”

“I’m not changing my shoes.”

“You’re as stubborn as your father.” 

This made Ciri laugh, and Geralt huff. Jaskier deposited a handful of ribbons in Geralt’s lap and Ciri sat down on the floor in front of him. With no complaining he started to braid her hair, tucking light-colored ribbons into her golden hair before twisting the braid up and pinning it gently into a crown. 

“There. Fit for a princess.”

Ciri stood and ran to the nearest mirror to marvel at her new hairstyle while Geralt ran his hand through Jaskier’s hair, wishing it was longer so he could braid his as well. Jaskier closed his eyes and hummed, enjoying the sensation for just a moment before he stood, announcing it was time to go. Geralt saw them out the door. He watched them until they disappeared on horseback down the street and even then his gaze remained just a minute longer. 

-

The dance was like a dream. Only candle light illuminated the bodies gliding across the hall tied together by rhythm and melody. Jaskier could appreciate the music- the symphonic notes echoed to where he stood leaning against a column nursing a nearly-finished cup of wine. It wasn’t like he couldn’t play the ballad far better, but tonight was for relaxing and drinking, not playing or singing. His gaze shifted across the hall and settled on where Ciri stood with a young woman in a scarlet gown. If not for the bright smile on Ciri’s face, he wouldn’t have hesitated to storm over and pour his wine onto the young woman’s dress. Geralt wasn’t the only protective one. 

But Ciri was happy. She was laughing all of a sudden, laughing and the way she looked when she did so, it made Jaskier happier than anything else. Happier than fancy new lute strings. Happier than a journal full of lyrics. 

Ciri took the young woman’s hand and led her to the center of the hall where they slid into the rhythm of the many footsteps and soft music. 

Jaskier idled for a while longer. The music shifted from soft singing to excitable jigs. The drunken lot began to take the place of the young lovers in the dance hall. Ciri found her way to Jaskier. She was holding the hand of the young woman, her cheeks dusted with pink. 

“Emeline, this is Jaskier.” The woman- Emeline- offered a courtesy and Jaskier responded with a curt bow. 

“Now, Emeline,” Jaskier began. “You should know- if you harbor any ill thoughts toward my daughter, I’ll come after you with a lute and one very angry witcher.” 

Emeline’s eyes went wide and Ciri flashed Jaskier a look. “Sorry,” She said hushedly to Emeline. “He’s… well, he’s like this.” 

“O-oh, okay,” Emeline laughed nervously. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I wouldn’t dream of hurting Ciri.” This made Ciri blush deeper. 

“Come on,” Ciri tugged on Emeline’s hand. “Let’s get a drink.”

  
  


-

And at the end of the night they would return home, where Geralt patiently paced and only relaxed once he saw his daughter to bed, exhausted from dancing. 

“She met a girl,” Jaskier told him over a sip of wine, and before Geralt could say anything, he spoke again. “She’s nice. She’s not like Mistle. I wouldn’t let her near Ciri if I thought the two were any similar.” Geralt grumbled something under his breath. Jaskier let it slide. “She can take care of herself.”

“But-”

“But, if anything happens, you have full permission to whip out both swords and protect our darling girl.” Jaskier finished off his wine and stood. 

“Being a father is fucking hard.” Geralt joined Jaskier and side by side they made their way to their bedroom.

“Perhaps, but it is worth it.” 

“Always.”


End file.
